Hope is Hard to Come By
by SilentFaith
Summary: 'I smile, and wonder if I will see her again. I hope I will, but I'm afraid hope is often hard to come by, and usually leads to more pain than necessary.' Alice lives a normal life. One day that changes when a Norse god lends her a hand, and months later when he comes crashing into her apartment. And again when she finds out her dead brother is a SHIELD agent - and very much alive
1. Color Schemes

_**A/N: Okay, so this should be fun. Before I begin, there are around 124 days until Iron Man 3 comes out. Yay! So, this story? It kind of just came to me one day. I started writing it in my math journal. So, I hope you enjoy this, maybe even enough to give me a review?**_

It all started on a Tuesday.

I wake up to the blaring of my alarm. "Oh, god..." Why couldn't the little red numbers say it was six thirty-one, instead of nine thirty-one.

Oh, crap. Well, I'm late.

I jump out of bed, which proves a horrible idea, as I get light-headed. I start towards the bathroom door, but end up tripping in a tangled mess of blankets and sheets.

"Oh...god..." I moan, pushing my snow-white bangs out of my face. I out of my cocoon of multi-colored sheets and such, and crawl along the - cold - hardwood floor. Suddenly, I hit the top of my head on the door, and begin groping around for the door handle. I find it, then push the door open and crawl inside. Who needs walking?

But, damn, the tiles are cold on me knees and elbows. I use the sink to push myself up, then study myself in the mirror. My snow-white hair, just a few shades paler than my skin, with aqua-marine and vivid violet streaks, cut short, is ruffled by sleep. My bright blue eyes are awake and alert, though the rest of me still wishes to be in bed. I am so _not_ a morning person.

My pajamas, a light blue silk tank top and shorts combo, are wrinkled from me tossing and turning in my sleep. With a yawn, I stretch. I look back in the mirror and decide it's probably time to start my day.

ooo

Showered, hair decent, my outfit consisting of a dark green shirt, with sleeves to the elbows, and black flare jeans with matching green flats, I head out into the world.

Or, at least, New York.

I'm about ten minutes later than usual, and since I can't seem to summon a cab, I guess I'm running. My messenger bag thumps my back as I hurry down sidewalks and across cross walks. I cut through Central Park, even jumping over a bench in my quest to not be late. And yet, even though I am so_ totally_ a ninja, I trip over a molecule and fall.

"Son of a _goddamn_-" I begin as I push myself to a sitting position. I'm cut of by a hand coming into view. I look up and see who that hand belongs to.

Well, he's... decent looking. Oh, who am I kidding. He's beyond decent. But, why does he look like he belongs in a play written by Shakespeare? He looks how I'd imagined Robin Goodfellow - Puck - would look like.

"Need a hand?" He asks, smirking, his voice like silk. _Wait - what? I am reading way too many romance novels in my spare time._ I take his offered hand and he pulls me up.

"Thanks," I say, smiling a little. "You're not from around here, are you?" His accent wasn't the first clue.

He frowns. "Is it that obvious?"

"Your accent is. And, most New Yorkers wouldn't have given me a second glance, much less a hand," I say, adjusting the strap of my bag.

He looks at me with this odd look, before saying, "Everyone needs a hand from time to time." I begin to say something, but my phone begins beeping. I pull it out to see that while I'm still ten minutes away, my shift starts at the restaurant in three minutes.

"Well, crap." I look up. "Thank you, very much, but I'm afraid I have to go. Maybe I'll see you around?" I say before I take off running again, watching my steps this time.

ooo

I run in the glass door, to the kitchen, grabbing my apron.

Danny looks over from the grill. "Hey, Alice! Hey, Randy, look who finally made it!" Randy peeks his head ut from behind the freezer door.

"Alice of Wonderland, how are you this morning, and why are you late?"'

I walk to the sink and start washing my hands. "I couldn't call a cab. So I ran."

Danny laughs and shakes his head, muttering, "Only you." Randy looks at me with an expression between humor and awe.

"What?" I ask, pumping the soap dispenser and scrubbing my hands together.

"I would have thought you being late had something to with a man," Randy said, shrugging his shoulders and smirking. Danny laughs harder. It's a pleasant laugh, and Danny's a pleasant man. Randy, however, is a smartass.

"You're not entirely wrong," I say, shrugging myself.

Randy looks at me. "What...?"

Danny smiles. "Explanation?"

"I tripped as I was running through the park, and he helped me up. He was nice enough, not bad-looking - though, he looked like he stepped out of 'The Complete Works of Shakespeare'," I say, shaking my hands and drying them with a towel.

Randy thinks for a moment. "Maybe he's in theater?"

"Maybe," I agree, hurrying to put my special pen - it has green, sparkly ink - behind my ear, grab my notepad for orders, and rush to the door to flip the sign from 'Closed' to 'Open'.

I man my station behind a podium, and before long a customer - a regular - comes in.

"Diego!" I say, smiling warmly. "How are the kids?" I ask as I lead him to his usual table.

"Lyle and Kelly? They're good, thank you," he says as he takes his seat. "To drink, I'll have-"

"Kiwi Lemonade, coming right up," I say, smiling and turning to the kitchen. I hear Diego laugh behind me. I swing open the door to the kitchen to see a Kiwi Lemonade being handed to me.

"I heard Diego come in," Danny explains. I smile as I take the drink out to our customer.

"I'll take the usual," Diego says, and I have just enough time to see Randy already cooking it before the door opens and a party of four wait to be seated. A little Italian restaurant may not look like much compared to the rest of New York, but never underestimate the power of delicious Italian.

_ooooooo_

I figure that if I am to plan a conquest of Midgard, I should attempt the know my way around the city. Selvig is making last minutes adjustments to the machine, and since he really is no company, I find myself taking a walk. People don't seem to find me odd, even in my Asgardian attire. It is a strange city, this place.

I finally break free from the claustrophobic streets of the city, and walk into a park. It is nice. I can almost feel myself, and not the rage. The rage is what Thanos used to turn my mind against me. It's an odd sensation. I have both have and do not have free will. It's very unsettling.

I sudden movement out in my peripheral vision snaps me out of my thoughts. A young woman - dressed in what I must admit is a nice color scheme - runs along a sidewalk. In her haste, she even manages to hurdle a bench. But, alas, her luck seems to run out as she stumbles and falls.

I look around. A few people give her a glance but none even stop. _'Midgardians, not even willing to help their own kind...'_

I step forward as the girl pushes herself into a sitting position, and I can hear her muttering. I extend a hand. She looks up at me, with the most brilliant blue eyes. I quickly compose myself.

"Need a hand?" I ask, smirking. Her reaction is a bit slow, as if she's thinking. She takes my hand, and I pull her up.

"Thanks," the woman says, smiling. _'She has a nice smile'_, I notice, somewhere in my mind. "You're not from around here, are you?" she asks.

I frown. It was easy for her to deduce that. Too easy for my liking, though I guess I'm not exactly trying to be subtle. "Is it that obvious?"

"Your accent is," she says, adjusting her bag. "And, most New Yorkers wouldn't have given me a second glance, much less a hand."

I swallow, and look at her. Her eyes are kind, yet sad. I am surprised at how much sympathy I feel towards her and yet I know nothing about her.

"Everybody needs a hand from time to time," I say. She opens her mouth to speak, but a noise interrupts her. She pulls out a small device, looks at it, and frowns.

"Well, crap." She looks up at me and smiles briefly. "Thank you, very much, but I'm afraid I have to go. Maybe I'll see you around?" she says before she takes off running again, though this time, thankfully, she seems to be more careful.

I smile, and wonder if I will see her again.

I hope I will, but I'm afraid hope is often hard to come by, and usually leads to more pain than necessary.


	2. Purple Orchids

Everything was going as it normally did.

_Then the world ended..._

Well, sort of.

* * *

I came out of the kitchen to notice customers crowding around the big front window. I come over and tap on of the closest on the shoulder. He turns around, and his blue eyes - framed by some nice wire frame glasses - settle on me. I have to restrain myself from saying "Well, _hello_ there."

He's gorgeous to say the least. His ruffled hair is a strawberry blonde, his smile framed by stubble. It takes me a moment to remember how to breathe, and another to remember how to speak.

"Um, hey, what's going on out there?" I ask, looking up at him, and I swear I nearly get lost in his eyes... Though, for some reason, I wish they were the green I had seen earlier.

He chuckles. "Honestly? I can't really see, myself. I think there's something above Stark Tower."

I nod. "Oh, the man's probably messing with another contraption," I say. "I'm Alice, by the way," I added, extending a hand.

"Miles," he says, shaking it. "Um, this restaurant is really nice. Great food."

"Thanks. I'll be sure to tell them they're doing a decent job," I say, smiling.

"In fact," he goes on. "This restaurant is one of my favorites. The atmosphere is great, the food is awesome, and the waitress," he inhales, and flashes a nervous smile, "is cute."

I smile. "I would stay to chat more, but I have to get back to my tables." If only I had longer hair to flip flirtatiously.

I walk back to the kitchen, grab some plates of food, and head out to the tables. I serve one table after another. I come out with a check, only to find it belongs to Miles' table. He sits with two - what I assume to be - couples, both seeming friendly.

"Okay, so are we going to split the check, or is someone taking it?" I ask.

"I am," a brunette man says, smiling and raising his hand a little.

"Okay, this is for you," I say, handing the man the check. "And this is for you," I add, handing my number scrawled with my name on a napkin to Miles. He takes and look, the smiles up at me. I return the gesture, before starting back towards the kitchen.

Halfway there, I hear screaming from outside the restaurant. I turn and rush to the windows, pushing my way through the little crowd.

I can't believe what I see. These... _things_, on flying - crafts? - speed above the street, blowing up everything in their way.

"Everyone, get away from the windows!" I shout, my voice shrill, yet demanding and even a little threatening. The crowd of twelve people or so immediately comply, backing up several steps, some even running back. I turn to say something, but a certain strawberry blond rushes forward and pulls me in farther, and behind me I hear glass tinkling down on the hardwood floor and metal crunching.

As Miles deems us far back enough and unwraps his arms from my waist, I spin and see a overturned taxi cab where I previously stood. I gasp, and start to say something, but I'm interrupted as some of the creatures peer through the smashed in window, with odd, spear-like weapons.

"Everybody! Come to the back!" I hear Danny yell, and the customer rush to comply. The kitchen has a heavy metal door with a big metal lock separating it from the dining area, and we usually keep it open. I grab a broom with a metal handle, getting into a defensive stance as the creatures - five of them - walk in.

Aliens? Have to be. No things on earth are that humanoid, and yet so grotesque. The come, pointing their freaky spears at us. Danny pushes the last person back into the kitchen, and Randy tosses him a gun.

We all have guns, I mean, we live in New York. I don't bring mine here, but the boys do. I do, however, carry pepper spray, but that's another story.

Danny stands behind me, and I can hear Randy shouting at the customers to go out the back entrance. The aliens advance, and one shoots a purple blast from the spear. Danny jumps right, tossing me the gun, and I roll left, tossing him the broom. I end in a crouch and shoot two of the motherf-ers in the head. One falls, and the other shakes its head before moving on.

I continue shooting with extreme accuracy, and I see Danny knock a spear out of a aliens hands, drop the broom and grab it, and kill the alien, all in the same moment. Damn. Danny just gained about 1000+ respect points, plus ten bonus points for looking amazed at the fact he just did something so awesome.

* * *

A few minutes later, and I kill the last one with an extremely up close shot to the neck.

I frown at the bleeding cut I have running along my forearm.

"Well," I say, "that was fun."

Danny grins, wiping off they darkly colored blood of the aliens off of his cheek.

Randy comes in, holding his gun. "All the customers went out the back and took refuge in some better fortified buildings."

"Good," Danny responds, twirling the spear around. "What now?"

"We go somewhere else," I reply. They nod, and automatically look to me for their next orders. Okay, I could learn to like this. "C'mon." I head out the front entrance, waiting for more of those alien f-ers to speed away, before walking along the sidewalk, avoiding glass and rubble and burning things.

* * *

"Everything's a blur.

I remember shooting and killing a few more aliens as our trio runs along the streets of Manhattan.

I remember one of the aliens hitting me in the head, hard, and falling.

I remember seeing a familiar figure on one of those alien crafts.

I remember getting separated from Danny and Randy.

I remember a brief exchange with the familiar figure after he fell of the craft, and his arms as he carried me of the street into a then abandoned building. His face and touch as brushed my bangs out of my face and wiped away the small trickle of blood from my temple, almost endearingly. His voice as he told me to stay. The fear I felt when I was all alone. The relief when Randy found me, and called Danny into the building to.

Then waking up in a hospital." I sigh, and cross my legs. I'm wearing a purple shirt, elbow length sleeves with a scoop neck, exactly like my green one. What can I say? I know what I like. I also have on white flair jeans and purple flats.

The doctor looks at me from over his wire glasses. "Can you remember who the familiar figure was?" He sits in a chair across from me, writing notes on his clipboard

I shake my head. He nods.

"Okay, Alice. I think you're good to go. Randy is escorting you home?" I nod. "Alright. You should be fine. You might be a little dizzy, disoriented, and possibly even have short term memory loss."

* * *

_Now I'm in a cab, with Randy at my side. When the hell did that happen? Oh, short term memory loss, disorientation. I get it now._

_Oops, I think I said that out loud, because Randy's giving me a sideways glance._

"Yes, you did say it aloud," Randy responds.

_Damn it!_

Randy laughs. I groan. _This'll be fun._

* * *

Now I'm lying on the couch in the apartment Randy and I share. As roommates only.

Randy comes over and crouches down beside me. "Hey. How're you doing, Alli-Bear?" He asks. He gave me that nickname after finding out about my love of gummy-bears. What can I say, those things are delicious.

"Unnnnn... " I through my arm over my eyes. My head is pounding. "I need drruuuggggsssss," I moan.

Randy chuckles. "I'll get some aspirin. Stay there." I hear him get up and move toward the kitchen.

"I'm completely decapitated!" I say.

"You mean incapacitated?" Randy asks, downright laughing now.

"Yes! Just bring me the drugs, peasent!" I yell back.

I hear Randy move to the living room, and set some things on the coffee table. I remove my arm and peek at the table. On it lays two pills and a bottle of water. I take the pills and chug the water, then resume moaning about my current state to Randy, most of my comments making him laugh.

* * *

The hours bleed together. Danny visits briefly, sees how we're doing. He even brings me flowers. Purple orchids. I love them.

Danny leaves after too long. Randy and I watch the news. There's a picture of the three of us standing in front of our restaurant as a person I vaguely remember as a customer describes how we killed some aliens. Hopefully, it'll be good for business.

I watch the news, and it has a report as some team called the Avenges. Some video clips and pictures pop up, and I recognize Tony Stark as Iron Man. Huh. Sounds cool.

Then a picture of our attacker pops up. Apparently, his name is Loki. _Oh. My. God. That's... that's... Holy shit. The man from the park, who saved me off the street! I have to tell someone! I have to tell Randy..._

_Wait, tell Randy what? What was I just thinking about...? Oh, well. If it were important I'd remember._

I slowly drift off to sleep, the couch being fairly comfortable. A memory flashes across my close eyes, and it leads to a question. The man in the park - Loki? - was the familiar figure that helped me in the street. But... his eyes were the things that troubled me.

The first time I met him, they were blue. The next time, as he brush aside my hair and some blood, they were more of a green. _Why?_


End file.
